The room was dark, dimly lit by a few flickering candles—two lamps mounted on the wall near the door and one standing alone atop the bedside table, molten wax sliding into the dish below. There was one window, shut tight against the cold, the magenta curtains pulled partway across, allowing for a slim view of the night sky beyond. There was the faintest suggestion of dawn upon the hilltops, but the sun wouldn't rise for a long time yet. The room itself was modest, simply furnished, but it had served its purpose that night.

The young man who had washed up on the steps of the palace lay upon the bed, warmed by the many blankets that covered him, simply sleeping. Carlotta sat at his bedside. It had given her such a fright to find him, so lifeless he had seemed, but with lungs now clear of seawater she hoped he would begin to make a recovery. He had woken once or twice since he'd been here, coughing up the last dregs of the ocean and glancing about blearily before slipping back into unconscious. No doubt he was the talk of the palace.

Carlotta felt a strange sense of protection towards him and, having found him, thought it her duty to watch over him. What had happened to him and who he was could only be guessed at. He reminded her of... But she would do well to dismiss such thoughts. She must ensure his well-being whilst others decided how best to help him.

Eric lay still, waiting for his senses to catch up, to realise that, tenuous though it was, consciousness had at last returned to him. His chest burned, his head pounded, and he felt that try as he might he could not hope to lift his heavy limbs. There was a strange warmth to his body though, unusual for the time of year—he almost always woke up shivering in these early months. The sand beneath him too had lost its graininess and the sailcloth around him was no longer scratchy and hardened with salt. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Eric actually felt he could remain quite comfortably within the caves.

He opened his eyes a fraction, expecting a sharp sting from the residual salt, but finding none. Was it dawn? I was hard to tell. The roof of the cave had a assumed a disguise, it's cracks and pockets replaced by smoothness. Eric frowned, squinted in the soft light. Where was he? The ocean had gone silent, not possible given the rocks. Perhaps it had simply vanished. What would he do at sunrise if that were the case? Eric closed his eyes, tried to summon rational thoughts. Of course the ocean hadn't vanished, it simply... wasn't where it should be; or it was and he wasn't. He sighed, frustrated by this lack of understanding, by the refusal of his mind to provide him with answers.

'Are you awake, my dear? Can you hear me?'

A blurred face appeared above him, accompanied by a voice he didn't recognise. His mother? No, not his mother, not after that argument. A memory reached out to him then, disjointed but real enough to convince him that he was a long way from home.

Eric shot upright, head spinning at the sudden movement.

'Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.'

There was a woman beside him; a human woman! Eric paled, gripped what he saw now to be bedsheets, his eyes darting wildly about his surroundings as they gained clarity. Definitely not where he should be.

'You needn't be afraid,' the woman continued, 'you're perfectly safe. My name's Carlotta, I'm taking care of you.'

The calmness with which she spoke was of direct contrast to Eric's own racing thoughts. How had he been so careless as to end up in the company of humans! He took a series of deep breaths, tried to gather his thoughts. The argument with his mother rang clearly, it was simply a case of chronology then, of selecting what came next. Slowly he began to piece together that short period in his life; had it truly only been twenty four hours? How quickly things had changed! He had drowned, he remembered now and shuddered. Ariel had saved him, albeit a little too late. Was she here too?

Carlotta angled the pillows so that he might sit upright, happy to wait for him it seemed. He looked up at her. There was a kindness in her eyes and she reminded him of his mother.

'Wh-where am I?' Eric's voice caught in his throat, sending him into a fit of coughing.

A glass of water was offered, and he gulped greedily to combat the dryness. Too greedily it would seem, Carlotta eased the glass away from his lips, worried that he would make himself sick. She then guided him back against the pillows.

'Sips, my dear, there's no rush.'

Eric nodded guiltily and took the glass again.

'You're in the palace,' Carlotta continued, 'we found you on the steps. You were in a bad way, but you've been seen by a doctor and he's fairly certain that you'll be alright. Can you tell me what happened?'

Eric listened with a deepening concern. He assumed she meant the palace on the beach, but he couldn't be certain, and how could he hope to explain what had happened when he only knew half the story himself?

'I don't remember,' he muttered. That would have to suffice. He flexed his legs one by one, if only reassure himself that they were there. He couldn't be here at sunrise, however close that was, had to get back to the caves. What would this woman do to suddenly have a merman in her care?

Carlotta's features twisted in sympathy. 'Not to worry,' she assured him, taking the empty glass and placing it upon the bedside table, 'I'm sure it'll come back to you. Do you live in the kingdom?'

Eric shook his head without meeting her eyes. How many of these questions would he be able to deflect before she grew suspicious?

'Is there anybody we might be able to contact? Anybody who might be missing you?'

Now there was a question! Eric was alarmed by the sudden moistness that stung his eyes. Ariel, maybe. Where she was though he didn't know, and it worried him that she may have been found as he was.

A sharp knock at the door redirected Carlotta's attention, and Eric used the opportunity to whisk away any threatening tears as she admitted the intruder.

An elderly man, smartly dressed, stood within the doorframe. His eyes found Eric almost instantly.

'Ah, good, you're awake,' he said, 'we hoped you would be. The Queen kindly asks that you make your way to the throne room when you're ready. She wishes to see her guest.'

Eric froze, horrified by this suggestion.

Carlotta expressed her concern, providing Eric with some small hope that this might be avoided. 'The poor thing's hardly in a fit state for such formality Grimsby,' she argued, 'can it not wait? Let him at least have a bite to eat first, regain his strength a little.'

The man—Grimsby—held up his palms. 'I'm simply relaying Her Majesty's instruction,' he insisted. 'I'm sure it won't take long. I'll leave it to you to escort him.' He have a short bow then and, after casting a lingering glance at Eric, disappeared.

Carlotta sighed, shook her head. 'I don't know,' she protested, lifting from the back of the chair a change of clothes that Eric had not until that moment noticed. 'What do you think, my dear? Can you manage it? Like Grimsby said, it shouldn't take long. I'm sure the Queen only wants to know if there's any way we can help you.'

Eric was reluctant to commit himself, though really it didn't seem that he had a choice. He agreed, decided that it was best not to prolong the meeting that he might be free of company by the time his transformation begun.

'All right then, I'll leave you to get changed, these look like they should fit you'—she motioned to the clothes and lay them across the end of the bed—'I'll be just outside when you're done.'

After a somewhat shaky start, Eric was able to follow Carlotta through the halls of the palace. The little room he had woken it hadn't done it justice, and as he passed through high-ceilinged rooms and across well-polished floors he couldn't help but marvel at this new perspective of a building he had only ever seen from the outside. The exterior had always impressed him, gleaming in the sunshine, but the interior was strangely dark, poorly lit—at least in the few areas that he saw on his way to the throne room. It was dismal, not at all as he had imagined it.

His room had been east facing, presenting him with a view of lush green hills and a slowly brightening sky. Had the window not been directly above a cluster of thorny brambles he might have been tempted to make an escape. Whatever the Queen wanted with him he could only hope to be brief.

Carlotta came to a halt before a tall set of doors, addressed the same old man who had summoned them. Eric was reminded of his audience with the King and of all that had followed. His words entered the young man's mind once again, his admission. Eric planted a hand upon the wall to steady himself. What awaited him back home? An unfair King and a mother who despised him. And Ariel. Eric hoped she was alright, that she didn't blame herself for this. After all, if it weren't for her and her sisters he'd be dead.

'...dear?'

Eric startled, looked up to meet the eyes of the women who had been so kind to him. His confusion must had been evident, for she began again unprompted.

'Are you alright?'

Eric nodded and hastily straightened up. How long had she been trying for his attention?

She looked unconvinced, but proceeded nonetheless. 'Grimsby will take you in, say if you need to sit down or anything won't you, the Queen won't mind.'

If only she knew, thought Eric, swallowing his trepidation.

The doors creaked as they opened and Eric obediently stepped forward. The room was long and windowless and immediately his anxiety climbed, without a view of the sky he didn't stand a chance. They had passed a clock on the way here, the hands showing it to be just shy of seven o'clock—apparently the Queen always rose early. Eric could see her now—flanked by two guards and a maidservant—straight-backed and regal in a gown of black. Her ebony hair, streaked grey at the temples, twisted and pinned atop her head. Sky blue eyes watched Eric's approach intently. She looked... tired, he thought, forlorn almost.

Grimsby stopped and stepped back with a sweep of his arm, informing the Queen that before her stood the young man recently washed upon their shores. Her eyes never once left Eric's, and he was glad to be able to bow if only to break the contact.

'I'm pleased to see you up,' she said, 'I trust that you're feeling a little better?'

Eric was surprised to hear her speak so kindly, already preferring her manner to that of King Triton.

'I am,' he replied, working against a suddenly dry tongue. 'A-and I... I can only thank you f-for your hospitality, Your Majesty.'

The Queen nodded. 'And how is it that you came to us?' she asked.

'I... I'm afraid I don't remember.' Eric could only stick to his original lie and hope that she thought it credible. It seemed to pass, for she nodded once more. There was a strange familiarity about her, Eric thought, as though she had once appeared in a dream. There was little time to consider this though, for sunrise drew ever nearer and he was keen to be relieved of his present company. He was wondering whether she had much more to say when she spoke again.

'What's your name?' she asked.

'Eric, Your Majesty.'

The Queen went rigid and the guard to her left reached for his scabbard, a movement that sent Eric one step back. He looked to Grimsby and was surprised at the horror he found in the eyes of the old man, so too the hand that Carlotta—who evidently had followed them in without his noticing—clasped to her breast.

Regaining her composure, the Queen raised a hand to the hasty guard, lowering his quick hands with that one simple gesture. Then she stood, descended the three steps that separated her from Eric and was suddenly before him. She held his confused gaze for a moment and looked him up and down. She scoffed humourlessly.

'I must say,' she began, 'nobody's ever gone to quite the effort you have.'

There were tears in her eyes, Eric perceived, though he couldn't begin to guess at the source of her sorrow, nor what he had said or done to trigger it.

'Your Majesty, I—'

'Don't... speak.' She cut him off through gritted teeth. 'Sixteen years. Did you honestly think that I would fall for it? Do you know how many have come before you—though granted such attempts ceased a long, long time ago.'

Eric stood dumbfounded, unable to comprehend the meaning behind her words.

'My son is dead!' she screamed, hysterical suddenly. 'And you come here with your pretending, to what avail? To taunt a bereaved mother!'

Speechless. The words to redeem himself, to protest his innocence, were out of Eric's reach. Once again his actions were being mistaken by royalty. Was he so socially inexperienced that every time he spoke he couldn't but bring trouble? Did his mere name warrant such a reaction? The next time he met someone he would change it, see if the outcome differed.

The Queen turned to her guards. 'Take him out of my sight!' she ordered, before turning her venomous gaze upon Eric once more. 'So this is how you treat my hospitality?' she spat. 'You are never show your face here again.'

Eric was seized roughly. What were her orders exactly?

'Your Majesty!' he called as the guards sought to drag him away,' please, I—'

A twisting pain, more familiar than anything else he knew, stole any further explanation from his lips. The guards released him at his sharp intake of breath, and Eric fell to his knees, his heart pumping fear through his veins. This couldn't happen! Not now! There was nothing he could do though, only wait, muscles taut and teeth clenched as his lower half shifted and fused. A collective gasp rippled through the throne room at its completion. Eric looked up pleadingly, tail curled beneath him.

The Queen's eyes were piercing, wide with shock and wild with fury.

'You're one of them.' Her words were breathy and trembling, betraying some inner agony. She turned her attention to the bewildered guards. 'You know where to take him.'

With that final order given she glided from the room, her young maid scurrying after her. The guards looked between one another, before taking Eric under the arm, one each side, and dragging him across the tiled floor.

'Wait!' Eric tried, struggling to release himself—though what he would do beyond that reminded to be seen. He was helpless here. 'Please, you... you can't! Where are you taking me?' His voice strained, alarm seizing his words. Why wouldn't anyone let him explain himself? Again he had done nothing wrong, and again he was being punished. He found a sudden childlike desire to be with his mother, desperately wished that he had never said anything to her, that his life would go back to the way it was. The fight left him swiftly and he was reduced to hanging limply between the guards. They could do what they liked with him, Eric thought, what did it matter now?